William Penn: A Radical, Conservative Quaker

By J. William Frost. The Pennsylvania State University Press, 2024. 258 pages. $119.95/hardcover; $95.99/eBook.

Everybody knows who William Penn was. He was the Quaker founder of Pennsylvania, and, as Friends, we know he asked George Fox if he could wear a sword. But beyond that, most people struggle to come up with anything else, and the sword story probably isn’t true. If you are “a person who knows a little about Penn and wants to understand why he became a Quaker, how that decision shaped his later life, and when he became significant in the history of Quakers and early Pennsylvania,” as Frost defines his target audience in the preface, you have found the right book.

William Penn: A Radical, Conservative Quaker provides a great deal of information about Penn, but it’s not a biography; it is much more focused in its explorations: the subtitle says it all. Penn came to the Religious Society of Friends as a religious radical; he quickly rose to a position of leadership and, for several decades, dedicated himself to widely spreading and conserving the faith he had discovered.

The nine chapters have straightforward headings that delineate the dimensions of Penn’s Quakerism. In each chapter, Frost assembles the relevant data from a variety of sources and viewpoints, while acknowledging the limitations to fulfilling his task. This is a scholarly book that is liberally sprinkled with footnotes and extensive references to related books and articles for the reader who wants to go deeper.

What quickly becomes apparent is that although Penn was a public figure, he was an intensely private man: he shared only those details of his life that he wished to have known, and even those are often trimmed to their essence. For example, in the second chapter, “Convinced,” Frost presents the known bits and pieces of Penn’s decision to join the Society of Friends, and it is clear that not all are in agreement with each other. In the end, Frost cannot tell the reader with certainty why the son of a war hero, a young man of wealth and power, would risk his privileged position to do so. Despite all the evidence marshaled, Frost cannot report what Penn hid.

In the seventeenth century, Penn was well-known among his fellow Quakers in two ways: first, for his wide-ranging writings. Of the many hundreds of pages he published, three works are highlighted: the two editions of his religious tome No Cross, No Crown; and Some Fruits of Solitude, his book of advice, proverbs, and aphorisms. All seem to have been written as much for non-Quakers as they were for members of the Society.

Second, he was known for the ministry that he delivered in meetings for worship during his extensive travels among Friends and others. Texts of what he said would be an invaluable source, but Penn—like other Quaker ministers of the time—did not prepare his thoughts in advance, so there are no notes or outlines to study. Unlike other prominent Friends of the day, he did not leave a journal that might have identified topics of particular interest. A handful of his public messages in the 1690s were taken down in shorthand and published, but the accuracy and completeness of those transcripts is unknowable. Instead of speculating excessively, Frost expanded his analysis to include the meager collection of messages given by other prominent Friends (a total of 79 before 1700, most from the 1690s). Though still a very small sample, Frost is able to extract a sense of the kind of ministry that Friends heard in their meetings for worship and how this work served to knit together a society that had no professional clergy.

For me, the most interesting chapter is “William Penn in Myth and History.” Here we find the story of the sword. Briefly told, it is this: in his first meeting with George Fox, a 20-ish Penn is said to have been wearing a sword. This was not unusual for a gentleman of his time, but the zealous, new convert is aware how fundamentally inconsistent this is with his claim to being a Quaker. In the story, Fox puts him at ease, saying he should wear his sword “as long as thou canst.” Frost digs for the roots of the story and in the end finds it unlikely, as much for Fox’s incongruous behavior as for the lack of solid provenance. Still, it might have happened, and Frost concludes the section with “[t]ell it as long as thou canst.”

The issue of slavery cannot, of course, be avoided. Penn was an enslaver. Although the existence of this book signals that Frost still considers him to be a significant historical figure, the evidence is not buried (including references to two Friends Journal articles). Ultimately, he concludes that “most scholars still find Penn’s failures balanced by his extraordinary accomplishments.”

Penn’s popular acclaim has survived centuries and will endure today’s notions of political correctness, because his weaknesses need to be balanced against his successes in founding a successful colony, advocating religious freedom, and writing eloquently about religious faith.

This is a serious book written for serious scholars, which is to say a small audience, and it is priced accordingly. Despite the cost, it is a valuable reference for those who want to better understand one of our most significant spiritual ancestors.

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Paul Buckley has written numerous articles and books on Quaker history, faith, and practice. He worships with Clear Creek Meeting in Richmond, Ind., and travels in the ministry urging spiritual renewal among Friends. His most recent publication is a Pendle Hill pamphlet, Teach Us to Pray. Contact: bucklpa@earlham.edu.